Radiation
by Puzzlie's Imajinacion
Summary: Creek drabble.  Rated T for language.


**Author's Note:** damn expensive eggs (dee) and I used to play a game called What Would They Do (WWTD), where we give each other a sort of prompt, and the other writes a little thing out of it. We decided to try to do this again, and here's my attempt. I haven't written Creek in awhile, or Tweek, or much fanfiction in general, other than my Shut Up fic where it's just Craig and Clyde being bros... SO. JUST UM. PLEASE BEAR WITH ME. I wrote this last night, just the dialogue, in my little composition notebook that I don't really write in.

dee's prompt: craig and tweek…. are in their 30's and they ARE living in their cute apartment. aaaaand… the water in their apartment goes out and so does the heat but neither of them want to call the landlord to fix it. WHAT DO.

And here's what I came up with.

* * *

><p><em>Radiation<em>

This wasn't the first time this had happened.

Their apartment has a decent location. It's decently sized and up to both Craig and Tweek's high standards, if "some place that has a lock and protects us from the outside" could be called high standards. But, the place was cheap. A lot cheaper than the rest of their friends had to pay for their homes. Or well, Token and Clyde. It was something to brag about, even if it only was because both Token and Clyde received their doctorate degrees and were living a much higher life style than other Craig or Tweek could even think of persevering. But being together for so long, and having reached their mid-30s, they didn't really give a shit anymore. They were comfortable.

Except for when the water goes out. … And the heater. For probably about the twentieth time in their five years of renting this place. Both never had gone out at the same time, because generally they would wait a couple of days before even deciding on doing anything about it, but the simple fact was that they needed water to cook their mac and cheese. And it was January and cold as fuck.

"I'm not calling the landlord again." Craig started, staring at Tweek with an unreadable, to the untrained eye, expression. His frown and half-lidded eyes read 'not again. no. fuck that shit.' "It's your turn. I always call."

Tweek grimaced, eye twitching slightly. He tensed up and about dropped the phone when Craig forced it into his open palms. Tweek's expression turned panicky, and his eyes became dodgy as he looked for anyway to escape. His eyes then focused onto Craig's, who was pretty much staring him down. Tweek slightly jumped and felt himself shrink, but then he practically growled and narrowed his eyes in frustration. "Wasn't that kinda our agreement…?" He spewed out without really thinking.

"What agreement?" Craig fired back.

"That you handled all of… all of… that you would handle anything that was… well, that you would handle things like this!" Tweek shoved the phone into Craig's face.

"Since when?" Craig raised an eyebrow, perplexed.

"Uh… since… we—us… started?" Tweek could not be placed on the spot like that. He word-vomited answers that made him want to kick himself. He lowered the phone down as Craig practically leered at him.

"I didn't agree to any of that."

"Oh." _Fuck._

"… So," Craig started to leave the room, "Let me know when you're done with that phone call."

"Craig, wait! Can't we talk about this?" Tweek had one hand too tightly gripping the phone, hoping maybe he'd "accidentally" break it, and the other reaching out towards Craig, trying to grab him to stop him from walking away.

"No." Craig didn't even pause and just kept walking.

"_Erghhh!_ CRAIG, listen!" Tweek's free hand fiinally grasped and twisted itself into Craig's shirt, pulling him closer.

"What." Craig looked behind his shoulder, an annoyed look on his face.

"Augh, I can't!" Was all Tweek could find himself to yell out.

"Yes, you can." Craig replied, somewhat slowly, as if talking to a two year old.

"No, I can't!" Tweek repeated.

"_Yes_, you can."

"No you can't!" Tweek blurted out without thinking. He blinked a few times and quickly shook his head. "I mean no I can't!"

"Wait." Craig turned around to face Tweek, and Tweek let go of his shirt. "You don't think I can call the landlord?"

"What? No! I think you can! I just don't think I can!"

"Are you putting words in my mouth?"

"What? NO! I just… messed up my own words…"

"Oh." Craig relaxed. "Well. I could call them if I wanted to."

"_I know you could!_" Tweek sounded a bit impatient. "I _can't_."

Craig sighed. "Then why don't I just call them then?"

Tweek's lips twisted into an almost maniacal grin, somewhat lopsided, his top four front teeth, slightly larger than the rest, attempting to push pass his closed mouth. He looked ready to snap, but he was trying to not look too giddy. "Okay, that works for me!" He forced the phone into Craig's arms, which were folded against his chest. It about fell down and Craig had to react quickly to grab it before it crashed into the floor beneath them. Tweek, without so much of a second thought, or even bothering to grab a coat or hat, as usual, ran out of the door, slamming it shut behind him.

As Craig numbly dialed the landlord's number, he paused for a moment to contemplate what had just happened. "… How did he do that to me again."


End file.
